In Between
by Flying Faraway
Summary: Where's our love? Ours? Somewhere in between the truth and delusion, found and lost, friendship and hostility, never and forever, meeting and parting. The fourth chapter: Naruto/Sakura, each night he discovered a new meaning to her
1. Shy Courage

**Shy Courage **

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She loves him. He cares about her. Naruto Uzumaki wants to become Hokage and be acknowledged by everyone (his village, at least). Hinata Hyuga strives not to be useless and dreams finding sincere appreciation in the eyes of the closest (mainly, his). When the blond boy laughs, the brunette girl smiles (and blushes at times, most of times). His ambitions are higher, her feelings are deeper. He wears the brightest orange, she prefers an unpretentious shade of violet. His movements are rough and clumsy, hers are subtle and graceful. Naruto makes a choice and she silently supports him, when he encourages her – the boy voices it loud and clear. He acts while she observes, he speaks while she listens. Naruto inspires her, Hinata amazes him. He is her foremost determination, Naruto is driven by his will to change everything. And he unknowingly changes her, Hinata changes both for him and herself.

Both hate when the other suffers.

When Hinata confesses (at last, selfishly), Naruto is capable of worrying only about the young kunoichi's dangerous position. He's thinking solely about her, and that is the happiest moment in her life. Then the war, his personal issues and all those great forces overwhelm him, she waits in hope that he will not forget. When the peace is gained back, the wounds are healed and all those sacrifices are honored, Naruto remembers that Hinata still expects his answer. And he has never been so unsure and ambiguous about anything.

For he hates when she suffers.

And when Naruto finally confronts her, tells the girl that he's sorry and walks away, Hinata never cries.

For she hates when he suffers.

A month passes and he feels longing. It takes the famous blockhead a lot of lonely nights to discover something so simple. She doesn't attract him like a magnet, she is just perfectly compatible with him. Three years later he suddenly approaches Hinata with the same shy courage she used to manifest and says that it still hurts and only she can stop the suffering. They embrace each other gingerly, all distances being overcome, and everything between them changes.


	2. Yesterday

Yesterday (c) Beatles

A songfic, perhaps.

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**Yesterday**

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_Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away...  
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"Troublesome… I'm not suited for such long-distance relationships. Too lazy for that ", Shikamaru frowns and yawns apathetically. The war hero has actually turned out to be a miserable coward on the battlefield of love. Responsibilities… responsibilities, and responsibilities. If he longs for her, wants her in his existence, promises everything to her, the son of Nara clan will be addicted, dependent, vulnerable. The clouds will laugh at his captivity. Pretending is one of the most opportune tactics.

_Why she had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say… _

"Say it once again, milksop, and I'll leave your sorry-ass for good. You'll have to crawl on your knees all the way to the Sand village and beg for my forgiveness until my brother learns to joke!" Temari spits and bangs the floor with the base of her fan. The dull sound disturbs the string-strained silence and he cringes.

_I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday…_

"Trouble…" his calm reply is interrupted by the rough force of her fist. Shikamaru makes no complaints, and he does nothing, watching her sigh and swiftly walk away. He does nothing besides following her silhoette with his eyes. Shikamaru stands there, near the gate, till he sees a tiny spot on the road, till the troublesome kunoichi completely vanishes over horizon. He could have easily stopped her…

_Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play…_

His father observes the only son intently and notes that he behaves too tensely, that he is withdrawn, negligent, and absentminded during their evening routine of shogi. The lack of concentration proves to be evident, and the loss is naturally determined. The young jounin scowls and mutters something inaudible.

_Now I need a place to hide away…_

Shikamaru climbs upstairs leisurely. He lies down on the familiar roof and shudders from the spring chill. No company. He needs to be alone, he needs to breathe, to squint from the sharply bright rays, to sink into the depths of the sky. He seeks after a merciful oblivion.

_Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be… _

The hole-ridden blanket of clouds hovers above Shikamaru. Their slow procession covers him with an intricate cool net of shade.

_There's a shadow hanging over me…_

Even his favorite pastime, cloud-gazing, has become unbearable. He curses the changeable white giants. Yet again they merge and transform into the peculiar shape, which persistently reminds him of her. Temari.

Ino laughs teasingly at her comrade's suffering and talks about psychology, projections, denial and his latent desires. Shikamaru listens to her diagnosis and smiles. He suddenly catches the right guess. It's even more troublesome without the woman he loves. She's too far away from him.

_Now it looks as though they're here to stay…_

Without the wind clouds can't travel. Too boring… even for his tastes. So he heads for the southern gates, thinking of an efficient method to cultivate some sense of humour.

... yesterday, Mmm...


	3. Twisted Triangle

**Warning: the text below is a little bit spoilerish for those who don't follow the development of recent events in manga.**

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_Why'd you have to go and make things so complicated?_

_© "Complicated" by Avril Lavigne _

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_ Naruto\Sakura, Sakura\Naruto__, Sakura\Sasuke._

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**Twisted Triangle **

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I am standing on the deck of a mediocre vessel which is sailing towards a "supposed island of paradise" (that is what I keep repeating to myself, being the naive optimist), bearing an awkward company (I'm a part of it, but even the antics of my exalted side are moderate, compared to the funny rap obsession of Killer Bee). I'm wondering, half-listening to his recitative in the background, if it's a common trait that all jinchuuriki share. Maybe, that's how our need for affirming individuality manifests, in order to overcome (somehow withstand) the intimidating shadows of the beasts within. In rare moments, exactly like these (fleeting interludes between the eternal struggle, all that fuss, all the life challenges), I happen to think. I really do reflect at such hours after midnight, when I'm not falling into the deep sleep (as soon as my head touches a pillow or a less comfy horizontal sufrace), caused by daily exhaustion, and when there is nothing trivial to get distracted from pondering… serious stuff. I actually earn headaches and a bou… bouquet of miserable sentiments from the mental work. At times I feel more comfortable facing the damn fox than confronting the other… demons.

"Masochist!" the faraway echo ripples over the polluted river of my memory. Masochist… yes, she called me that, when I stabbed a kunai in my own hand as an oath mark during our "Wave-escapade". Her aim has always been good, no matter what (fists or words) she uses to hit the "blond idiot", Me.

"I love you, Naruto!" her sudden confession returns to me like a boomerang or a shuriken, cutting through the defensive layers of my heart (childish disbelief, for example) and I grip my shirt tighter, choking back a bitter laugh. I (the featherbrain) am too vulnerable when it concerns Sakura…chan (she's my habit, good or bad, depends). Three years ago it would have been fine, simple, transparent, but now… it's just too complicated, entangled, and uncertain. Both she and I are not the ones we used to be (frank, and thirteen). In the past, there was always "the He" in the little equitation. The three of us formed a stable triangle. I'm sure it would have remained that way, if Sasuke didn't abandon the team "on a whim", endangering our future along with his. Stupid selfish Avenger with an inferiority complex. Why couldn't he choose a safer obsession? Like tomato paste?

It's hard to draw the triangle when you have no idea about the location of the third apex (apex, right?), or preserve the configuration, based on a phantom, a memory, a photography (now buried under the ruins of Konoha). As a result we are the prisoners of a new twisted triangle, which we can't escape, which we don't want to erase. And the two stubborn fools (I and she) won't let him go… we won't let you (yes, you)… severe the bonds for it requires two ends to burn the bridge without a hope to restore it.

I find the perspective of the third reunion disturbing and thrilling. Frustrating. Team seven in its initial membership has been reformed, regrouped, rearranged, reversed, re… everything else. Now we (two thirds of us, plus Sai) are named team "Kakashi". The contrast is obvious and painful for our eyes. The changes appear to be irreversible. It takes all my enduring faith (in a possibility to magically bring back our special "normality") and knuckleheadness not to lose the thin (almost invisible) thread between you and me and many white stitches of considerate lies and semitruths to preserve the tattered fabric of our… something-ship between me and Sakura. And I can't even imagine what it takes for Sakura… Sakura-chan… not to break her ties with you after our latest clash. You should know better, because Sakura-chan has tried to fit into your skin by killing (attempting) her most important person.

And I… I keep claiming that I'm a man of word, blurting about my nindo and feelings. Gods must be laughing at my pathetic efforts or seething at my foolish arrogance: "Ah, always an amusing knucklehead. Does he ever learn? " I'm beginning to suspect that my previous reincarnation had awfully sinned. My karma is nothing to be envious of. But it's mine, nevertheless. The sorrow of walking such a road is compensated by my unhealthy optimism and natural masochism.

The only thing I'm adamant about that we should mend our triangle. Being misbalanced for so long… it takes too much.

So much… that a growing hollowness is left behind.

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I stop thinking; the rocking motion of the deck beneath my feet has been making me anxious the whole time (vaguely reminding me of the old swing in front of the academy): I'm looking for the land on the horizon, highlited by the dawn.


	4. Metaphors of Love

Naruto/Sakura

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**Metaphors of Love**

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On our first night you were the finest priceless piece of art, made of the thinnest peach-colored porcelain. In the beginning, afraid of touching you even with the tip of my finger, I could only admire you endlessly: your perfectly harmonious shape, stripped of wrapping fabric; all those ethereal curves; the salient elements, my gaze greedily absorbed; your smooth, yet sharp contours; and the hauntingly graceful silhouette, mimicked by the envious shadow on the wall. When I dared to awkwardly cradle you in my arms you felt even more fragile like you were on the very verge of shattering into millions of pieces, should I cease holding you.

On our second night you were an unfinished alabaster figurine which I assiduously modeled with my palms, memorizing the newly emerged smallest details of the relief and texture. From the crown of your head to curled toes, I did not ignore a single spot of your flesh. I kept caressing until you transformed into the flow of velvet and silk, until my seeking hands got so entangled, so lost in you, that there was hardly a chance of the two wanderes returning to me.

On our third night you were an avatar of a deity I could pour all my belief into, devoting my whole existence to solely you. Blinded by your shine, I prostrated in front of you and moaned my fervent supplication in every breath and in the slightest movements of my trembling hands. And when you abandoned me after the dawn I gently traced with my lips the still warm imprint of your form on the sheets.

On our fourth night you were a katana that I tried to stubbornly grasp and bend. Your steely firmness resisted all my attempts, tiny blades pierced my wrists and back, cutting my skin without mercy. You dueled with me for hours and turned out victorious, generously showing your opponent the merits of such a poignant defeat.

On our fifth night you were a crane about to fly far away, soar up to the ceiling and transgress the material barrier. I could hear the rustling of your wings and weeping calls which rocked my soul to its core. And I learnt to let go at the peak of nirvana for you always came back to me as if I were your nest, your home, your shelter.

With every night you meant more and more to me. And I... to you.


End file.
